21
What of the 21 year old you? Would your hair still be long, would your love and passion for horses still be there? Would you still love a cuddle and say love you when we were saying goodnight. Would your eyes still light up at the thought of a McD’s? The house is so quiet without you and I’m forever troubled by the realisation of how painfully and excruciatingly loud that silence can be. Some days it’s a constant hum but on those days that your absence becomes a raw, gaping wound again well that silence reaches such a volume it makes the headache and the tears last all day and that constant lump in my throat that never really leaves seems to grow, making my breath shallow and arduous. On those days I have to succumb to the pain and tolerate that deafening silence in the knowledge that tomorrow might not be as bad. Your birthday is here once again, our third without you but this one seems so much more significant. 21 is a milestone, just like your 18th was. I’ve made you 21 h...